


That I Would Be Good

by BitchScaresMe



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, F/F, F/M, Multi, Revenants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 07:37:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11962761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitchScaresMe/pseuds/BitchScaresMe
Summary: AU/Canon Divergence:Nicole Haught could count on one hand the number of times she’d stared down the barrel of a gun. In fact, two of the five times had occurred the same night, in the same room, within the same ten minutes, with the eldest Earp standing on the other end of the barrel. Each time, she’d managed to walk away unscathed…every time – except for this one.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Major character death...and resurrection. I promise that I will give you bulletproof lesbians. 
> 
> For maximum angst, I recommend that you listen to "Please Don't Go" by Stephanie Rainey before, after, or during this prologue.

Nicole Haught could count on one hand the number of times she’d stared down the barrel of a gun. In fact, two of the five times had occurred the same night, in the same room, within the same ten minutes, with the eldest Earp standing on the other end of the barrel. Each time, she’d managed to walk away unscathed…every time – except for this one.

Before she could blink, before she could call out Waverly’s name, a fire was sparking within a long barreled Colt .45; and a piece of lead was slicing through the air and burying itself into the soft armor she had adorned beneath her uniform…through the armor and into her abdominal cavity. Level II bullet proof vests were standard for law enforcement officers across the country, but none of them were made to withstand the fatal combination of ballistics and magic. 

Nicole hit the wall seconds after the bullet had already pierced her internal organs, and down she went.

_“Now you know what it feels like when people take your things.”_

* * *

 Death itself is both a painless and solitary experience. Death is the moment of silence, and for some, peace, bookended by a siren’s cry and immobilizing pain. The moments before and after death are the ones that count – the ones that follow everyone touched by its inevitability until they can experience it themselves. There’s a reason why humans are so profoundly affected by the death of another, and it’s found within the fabric of mortality. Even if they’ve not yet been wrapped within death’s embrace, they shaken her hand, they’ve brushed elbows, they’ve exchanged passing glances. Death does not discriminate, nor is she a benefactor of humankind. When a human dies, there are infinite realms to which their souls will travel – and death will grant them safe passage to their heaven or to hell – apologizing to the unlucky few who had no choice in the matter.

Nicole knew her fate beyond death, and she was determined to make the precious moments before her death as easy as possible for her Waverly. _Her Waverly_. Waverly Earp, who belonged to no man or woman, but still gave herself completely to those she loved. Waverly Earp, whose arms were wrapped around the shaking body of the wounded deputy. Nicole could feel Waverly’s tears crashing down on her own cheeks as the brunette hovered over her, pulling her fading girlfriend closer to her. Nicole closed her eyes, the fluorescent lights suddenly too harsh for her overwhelmed senses.

“Wynonna do something!” Waverly sobbed, reaching out to her sister with bloodstained hands.

The heavy soles of Wynonna’s combat boots shook the linoleum beneath Nicole’s body, and she opened her eyes to meet the Heir’s gaze. Garnering the strength she had left, Nicole shook her head and defied Waverly’s pleas for help.

“N-no. Earp. Go. Stop your dickhead sister, stop them.” Nicole could feel Waverly’s gentle hands moving frantically along her abdomen, tearing at the fabric of her shirt and finally, the bulletproof vest that had failed to perform. “Listen to me, Wynonna. It’s okay. End it.”

Wynonna nodded and knelt on the ground, kissing Waverly’s temple before bounding out of the building to pursue Willa. Waverly had no time to protest.

“Why would you do that?” Waverly choked. “We just got started!”

The lump that had built up in the back of Nicole’s throat had moved to the back of her tongue, and she couldn’t stop herself from gagging as the sobs broke loose. Blood trickled down the corner of her mouth, racing the tears that had already begun spilling out from behind her eyes.

“I know baby,” her voice cracked with fear. “It’s okay, Waves. I’ll be okay,” she forced herself to regain some semblance of composure. Nicole knew this was a lie, but couldn’t let herself break Waverly’s heart twice in one night.

“No. Please. You can’t do this.”

Nicole contracted her abdomen as she attempted to sit up, causing a spurt of blood to erupt from the gunshot wound. She could feel the dampness beneath her vest, grateful that Waverly couldn’t see the full extent of her injuries beneath the uniform. Waverly leaned down, pressing her forehead against Nicole’s. The youngest Earp shivered at the chill that had already overtaken Nicole’s body.

“I’m sorry, baby.” And she was. More sorry than she’d ever been in her entire life, and more sorry than she ever would be again.

“Nicole, stop. We can still get you help, okay? You can’t go!”

“Waverly, I need you to know. I love you.” _I’m sorry for everything that comes next._

Waverly heaved, her foundation crumbling at Nicole’s declaration and shook her head in desperate denial. “No, we aren’t going to do this. You’re going to be okay.”

Nicole knew what was coming, and she knew that Waverly wouldn’t, or couldn’t, let herself say the words. And that was okay. It had to be okay. Instead, she brought a hand to the corner of her mouth and wiped away the blood that had begun to coagulate, staining the sleeves of her uniform for the last time. Her eyes searched Waverly’s own glassy hues, and the youngest Earp closed the distance between them – kissing Nicole with every ounce of life she had in her, hoping that somehow it would allow them to trade places.

It didn’t…but it was enough for Nicole. It was a goodbye.

The redhead finally broke the kiss, unable to breathe, and began coughing uncontrollably, blood pooling around her. Her body spasmed with enough force to break Waverly’s embrace. Nicole’s head fell into Waverly’s lap, their hands instead searching for one another.

Nicole looked up one last time and managed to smile, genuine and true. 

“Be good for me, Waves.”

Waverly nodded and trembled. “Stay good for me.”

“Always.”

* * *

The elasticity of time was a concept Xavier Dolls had found himself pontificating more than he’d like to admit. The way a year could feel like ten, the way a minute could feel like ten-thousand. In a year’s time, Xavier Dolls had stood by the Earp women as they dropped rose petals on the oak casket of Deputy Nicole Haught.

An entire year that felt like a lifetime. As the Earth made its sole journey around the Sun, he had seen tears flow like a raging river. He had seen demons make their peace while their mercenary swallowed more regret than he’d ever be able to chew.

He thought he’d seen all that a year could throw at him – until he saw Wynonna Earp’s body laying on the frozen dirt with soot stained cheeks and a stopped heart.

It only took ten seconds to revive her, to summon her back to the brink of consciousness. The Earp heir had died; though not for long.

And she didn’t come back alone.

* * *

 “God damn pot holes!”

Sheriff Randy Nedley threw his half-eaten bear claw onto the passenger’s seat of his patrol car, thighs burning from the scorching kiss of fresh, albeit spilled coffee. He hastily turned the wheel and slammed on the brakes, forcing the car to a sliding halt. He smacked the overhead-cabin lights on with his palm and scrambled for a napkin to wipe himself up with. As he searched, he made a mental note to send a memo to Purgatory Road Commission about how much coffee their negligence had cost him in the past week alone. He could have sworn he sent them an email about fixing the potholes on Rocky Point Road over a month ago.

Though it was well after 10 o’clock at night, the night’s previous snowfall still blanketed the ground, making the starless night sky look a little less abysmal.

“I found you, ya bastard,” he gleefully mumbled to himself – reveling in the solitude that permitted his private profanity. The lawman took the newly uncovered fistful of napkins and haphazardly wiped the stained fabric of his khakis. Nedley felt his heart break for just a moment. The pain burrowed deep in his chest. He knew it wasn’t his angina. Haught had always complained about the classic trouser, insisting that the fabric stained too easily and clung too awkwardly. Maybe she had been right. Maybe it was time for a change.

He closed his eyes and hung his head low for a moment in nameless meditation. He had always worked hard to maintain boundaries with his deputies, but Haught had gotten under his skin with the help of her tenacity and large, orange cat. God, he loved that cat.

Nedley opened his eyes at the thought of Calamity Jane – he was late to feeding her dinner. In Haught’s absence, he had adopted the little lioness.

He swiftly transitioned the car back into motion and pushed onward through the night. As he crept closer to the edge of town, where his quiet little home with a view of the Rockies was placed, the already scarce lights began to fade away. Guided only by his headlights, Nedley spotted something moving roadside.

“What the – “, he pulled onto the side of the road and switched on his high beams. There was a body.

Instinctively feeling for his gun, Nedley gripped the handle, ready to draw at any moment. In a town like Purgatory, even road kill didn’t stay dead for long. He stepped out of his patrol car and slowly walked towards the body.

“Excuse me, are you alright? Can you hear me?”

The closer he got to the body, the more observations he could make.

Female. Caucasian. Above average height.  Early to mid-twenties. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was…

“ _Haught.”_

Nedley fell to his knees and traversed the remaining ground between them from a crawl.

“Nicole, is that you?”

It wasn’t long before two crimson-colored eyes were staring at him. He scrambled backwards, startled but certain. He raised his hand up to his radio without breaking the dumbfounded stare he had cast in the wounded young woman’s direction.  

“Earp, get to the station **now**. There’s something you need to see.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m sorry about this, Nicole. I just can’t risk it.”

Nedley locked eyes with what was left of his former Deputy as he closed and locked the holding cell door. Her eyes had softened and returned to their mortal color, but there was a crack where the gleam used to be. He set his jaw and ran his fingertips over the beard he’d grown since winter had hit. 

“I understand,” she finally replied.

She’d cooperated as he cuffed her on the side of the road, and sat silently in the backseat on their way back to the station. It wasn’t until they’d gotten into the fully-lit station that he could get a good look at her. Her right cheek was decorated with a scar she didn’t have in her first life. Her wrists were bruised, bloodied. Out of pity and good faith he uncuffed her once she was safely secured behind bars. As she moved from the center of the cell to the concrete bench in the corner, he watched her move with a slight limp. If they had been in this position a year ago, he would have told her that she looked like she’d gone to hell and back.

Nedley hooked his thumbs in his belt and tried to avert his gaze. He couldn’t stop looking at her. After a few long moments of suffocating silence, he cleared his throat.

“I uh-, I have your cat.”

Nicole looked up, slightly raising her brows but not speaking.

Nedley continued, “Yeah. She even almost likes me now. I can pet her for a few seconds without getting bitten.”

“That’s great,” she forced herself to respond, though it sounded more sarcastic than appreciative.

The slamming of the station doors and the piercing sound of Wynonna’s whistling cut through the air, causing Nicole to wince in pain, and Nedley to sigh with relief.

Before she’d entered the holding cell area, Wynonna was already talking to Nedley – unaware as to why he was calling on her. 

“This better be good, Nedley!”

“Oh, it is.” He mumbled under his breath.

“What was that? Waverly and I were on our way to buy some whis- holy shitballs.” 

Wynonna stopped dead in her tracks as she caught a glimpse of what, or who, was in the cell.

“Nedley, why didn’t you tell me?” She snapped. “Waverly is on her way in here!”

The Heir began frantically searching for a way to hide what was in the cell from Waverly, quickly realizing that her efforts would be futile. She sucked in a sharp breath, hearing delicate footsteps behind her.

_And 3…2…1…_

Wynonna heard the keys to Waverly’s Jeep hit the floor, along with everything else she had been carrying inside. Jumping back, Wynonna reached for Waverly’s hand.

“Baby girl, listen to me…we don’t know – “

Waverly pulled her hand away from Wynonna and blew past her sister, running up to the holding cell and yanking on the unmoving door.

“Nicole,” Waverly whispered, tears already falling freely from her eyes. “Is that really you?”

Nicole turned to face Waverly, a dimple-deepening smile flashing across her face for one beautiful instant. “It’s me…kind of. I don’t know.” The smile faded.

Waverly tugged on the cell door again, with all her might – but only met the scathing sounds of metal hitting metal. “What the hell is she in here for, Nedley? She’s not an animal. Wynonna! Help her.”

Nedley and Wynonna exchanged glances, and the older man sighed with resignation. “She could barely get herself into the back of the car after I found her.”

Wynonna battled with herself internally, trying at all costs to avoid looking at Waverly, whose expression would undoubtedly override any logic she possessed. Inconspicuously moving her hand down to her hip, she reassured herself that Peacemaker was present and loaded. Nicole still noticed.

“Okay. Open it up.”

Nedley nodded and pulled the keys out of his pocket. Before he could take another step, Waverly had snatched the keys and was pulling open the cell door, throwing herself into the containment area.

“Waverly, be careful,” Wynonna cautioned, knowing it was no use.

Nicole was pushing herself up off the bench when Waverly crashed into her, knocking her back down as they embraced. Her tense, tortured body melted into the smaller woman’s and she felt like she’d just come home. “Waverly,” she sighed.

“You were dead,” Waverly cried. 

“I still am,” Nicole conceded. Her fate had been sealed. Whether or not she was back on Earth, she was a dead woman walking; this she knew simply by the look on Wynonna’s face.

Waverly and Nicole embraced for what seemed simultaneously too short and too long. Too short, because Waverly had been the softest resting place she’d ever known. Too long because she could feel the hot, suspicious eyes of Nedley and Wynonna on them as they reunited. The mortal feeling of being watched and judged was creeping up on her again – suggesting that maybe there was still some human left inside of her.

* * *

 Nedley patiently stood aside, averting his gaze to allow Nicole and Waverly a modicum of privacy during their too-public reunion. Unfortunately, Wynonna had other plans. Through the hushed whispers, hitching breaths, gentle cries and aimless apologies – the Earp Heir loudly, obnoxiously cleared her throat. The interjection was enough to pull Waverly from Nicole, who felt a sudden warmth flood her cheeks, painting them the shade of pink reserved especially for these intimate interruptions.

“Hey, uh, Waverly,” Wynonna started, scratching her nose knowingly. “Why don’t you come over here for a second so I can ask you something?” Her eyes moved to Nicole, and she smiled innocently. “Something that is definitely **not** about your undead girlfriend.”

Waverly rolled her eyes as she rushed out of the cell and mouthed an apology to Nicole, who felt more like a passenger in the situation than an active participant. Maybe that’s the way it was supposed to be. Death and destiny, eternal damnation, the works.

The youngest Earp closed the cell door behind her and glared at Wynonna, who shrugged it off and hurriedly motioned for her sister to come closer. The second Waverly stepped within striking distance of Wynonna, the Heir lightly whacked Waverly’s arm with the back of her hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing just rushing in there like that? We don’t know if she’s still her. I mean her. We don’t know if that’s her.”

“It’s her, Wynonna. I can feel it,” Waverly snapped.

“She’s a Revenant, Waverly.”

“Is she?”

The question seemed to through Wynonna off-guard. “I think so. Red eyes, back from the dead…looks taller. Sounds like a Revenant to me.”

“Fine. Whatever. But it’s still her.”

“Babygirl, it might be Nicole, but it’s her plus a demon-filled bomb just waiting to blow.”

 “Your non-boyfriend, former boss who you’re totally into is a fire breathing lizard thing!”

Wynonna glared at Waverly, almost offended that she’d pull the Dolls card in such a situation, but she knew she couldn’t contend with her sister’s logic. Nor could she contend with her stubbornness, or tendency to take matters into her own hands.

“You’re killing me,” Wynonna wined, exasperated. “What do you want to do with her?”

“I’m taking her home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, thanks for reading! Next chapter will be longer and probably a little painful! 
> 
> To prepare for next chapter I suggest you listen or read the lyrics to "World In Flames" by In This Moment. 
> 
> Next chapter should come a lot quicker, as I will be hiding in a hotel room until Irma has come and gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Waverly Earp had been possessed exactly twice in her life: once by a demon, and once by mortality’s fiercest condition; grief. While a demonic possession felt like carrying a dark passenger, the grief slipped into each crack and crevice, tricking her into believing that it was exactly where it belonged. Possession, the kind that started with goo and ended with tentacles flying never stopped feeling like a burden, like a mistake, like a war. But her grief became the blanket under which she lived, breathed, and slept. Grief, after a while, became a companion more than an opponent. It demanded be carried, fed, and eventually…put to bed. In the year that had passed since Nicole Haught’s death, Waverly Earp had learned when to tuck her grief in at night and carry on. It was always there, whispering to her, taunting her each time she smelled vanilla-dipped donuts or spotted a redhead on the street…but she had learned how to interact with grief and all of its demands.

Grief had taught her a lot, but it couldn’t prepare her for the impossibility that was standing before her. It couldn’t tell her what she figured out while examining the bruised and newly scarred face of her fallen loved one. It never told her that the hardest hello would be the one that followed their final goodbye. 

As she tenderly tucked a lock of hair behind Nicole’s ear, she couldn’t help but wonder why her grief hadn’t left. Guilt hit her hard, a wrecking ball of emotion slamming into her gut, taking her breath away and forcing tears to well up in her eyes. How could she still be grieving for Nicole, when she was standing right in front of her? 

“You don’t have to do this,” Nicole interrupted Waverly’s internal struggle, taking half a step backwards – creating all the distance that the small space of her bathroom could provide. “You can go home. I’ll be okay here. I just need to get cleaned up and go to sleep.”

_Do Revenants need sleep?_

“No. No. I want to be here.”

“Okay.” 

Nicole wasn’t giving Waverly too much to work with, but it would have to do. The strong former deputy looked shorter somehow, her spine curved into an uncomfortable looking slouch – the kind Wynonna walked around with after a particularly grueling battle. It took every ounce of self control Waverly possessed to stop herself from asking Nicole exactly what had happened to her. She already knew the answer – there was no use forcing Nicole to admit that she had been tortured for simply associating with an Earp.

“If I draw you a bath will you get in?”

Nicole nodded slowly, “Just…please don’t make it too hot. I can’t stand the heat anymore.”

“Good thing my feet are always cold,” Waverly joked – hoping to elicit even the phantom of a smile from Nicole. It worked, though only for a moment. “Alright! One tepid bath coming right up. Do you want to lay down while the water runs?”

Nicole nodded and slowly exited the bathroom, her body brushing against Waverly’s as she breezed past. Waverly felt her heart skip a beat, the way that it used to when both of their hearts were still pumping.

She shook it off, bent down to plug the tub, and began running the water. Not too hot, not too cold. As the water gushed out of the faucet, Waverly allowed herself to cry – if only for a moment.

* * *

Waverly stood in the doorway of Nicole’s en suite bathroom and admired the now relaxed body of her girlfriend…ex-girlfriend – she wasn’t sure. Nicole was laying towards the foot of the bed, her back and hips supported by the mattress, though her long legs were bent; feet planted softly on the floor. She gently rapped her knuckles against the wooden doorframe, knocking so as not to startle Nicole.

“Bab-…Nicole. The bath is ready.”

Nicole sat up slowly and pushed herself off of the bed with a small groan. As she moved through her bedroom and approached the entrance of the bathroom, Waverly stepped out and bowed her head.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Waverly vowed, fully prepared to station herself on top of Nicole’s bed while she got herself cleaned up.

The air was still, even as Nicole felt Waverly brush past her.

Nicole stopped short of the bathroom and sighed with resignation. “Waves wait,” she pleaded. The taller woman’s hand reached out to grab Waverly’s. Her fingers fell upon the soft skin on the back of Waverly’s hand, searching for the other woman’s fingertips. It only took a moment before they found their way back to one another, fingers interlocking.

“Will you stay?”

“Of course,” Waverly replied, almost incredulous. Her hand squeezed Nicole’s a little tighter, a promise that she’d stay as long as Nicole needed her to. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Nicole smiled appreciatively, wide enough to deepen the dimple Waverly had fallen so deeply in love with. _Even if she never said it._

They entered the bathroom together, and slowly closed the door.

* * *

Waverly leaned against the ceramic sink and watched as Nicole slowly pulled a tan Purgatory Sheriff’s Department T-Shirt over her head. Nedley had been kind enough to break into the fundraiser merchandise before sending Nicole home, just in case her clothes at home were stale from neglect. Nicole’s movements were stiff, though Waverly could tell that she was become more comfortable in her movements, however painful they may have been. Nicole balled up the shirt and tossed it aside. Waverly found herself once again unable to look away from Nicole’s body. It was beautiful, yes, but tonight it took her breath away for too many other reasons. 

Without thinking, only feeling, Waverly gasped. One hand raised up to cover her mouth while the other reached out to touch the deep purple bruises that painted Nicole’s ribs. Nicole winced at the contact, contracting her abs until they were tight, hard. “What did they do to you?” The words pushed past her lips before she had the chance to seal them shut.

“Oh, this is nothing. You should see the other guys.” It was a good thing Nicole didn’t need to breathe with the same frequency as a mortal human, because each word, each laugh, each inhalation sent rods of pain through her abdomen, so deep she swore she could feel it deep within her spine.

Waverly didn’t laugh, only brushed her fingertips against Nicole’s skin as they traveled down to the waistband of her brand new Purgatory Sheriff’s Department sweatpants. Her doe eyes traveled from Nicole’s ribs, up her body – desperately hoping to find Nicole’s own eyes looking down at her.

Nicole didn’t disappoint. No matter how much had changed, the synchronicity of their gaze seemed to have remained the same.

“Okay?” Waverly asked, her fingertips lightly pushing down on the waistband of Nicole’s pants.

“Okay,” Nicole whispered with a nod of encouragement.

* * *

 “Does this hurt?” The brunette asked, lightly dabbing one of Nicole’s smaller wounds with a warm washcloth.

“No.” _Yes._

“Okay, good. Tell me if it starts to hurt.”

“I will.”

Nicole sat slightly submerged in the warm bathwater, her knees drawn up to her chest as Waverly tended to her. Each time the fabric brushed against an abrasion she bit her tongue to distract herself from more external pains. She knew that this moment was as much for Waverly’s sake as it was for hers, and she wouldn’t dare do anything to take away Waverly’s comfort. If this was what Waverly needed to do, then she would grin through it. 

As the water that was strained from the washcloth cooled and ran down her limbs and back, small goosebumps erected beneath Nicole’s skin. The room temperature water felt like droplets of ice compared to the fire that had licked her skin less than 24 hours before. While the burns had healed since her resurrection, the wounds inflicted upon her by those down below remained. A picked scab will scar, but she was never afforded the luxury of scabbing. They pricked and they sliced and they peeled each time her flesh closed, blood coagulating just moments before it flowed again.

Waverly was murmuring calming mantras under her breath, ensuring that every tattered inch of Nicole’s skin was cleansed. Nicole closed her eyes and tried to lean into the words, the soothing sounds of water surrounded her – but it was a kind of stimulation she would have to become reacquainted with. A year in hell felt like a lifetime, falling asleep to screams and chants and rattling chains. To be in such stillness, wrapped in the illusion of safety, something about it no longer felt quite right. This wasn’t where she belonged…but really, had she ever?

“Where are you right now?” Waverly seemed to sense the internal conflict, and Nicole let her former lover’s words tether her back to earth.

“I’m here.”

“You’re here but there’s something going on. I know you.” She knew the way Nicole’s brow furrowed when she was deep in thought, the way her dimple appeared when her jaw was set in a hard line. She knew the how her body felt when it tightened, when it released. _Even how it felt when she was dying._  

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Nicole opened her eyes and turned to look at Waverly, who had momentarily ceased her physical caregiving efforts to truly look at the redhead.

“You went to hell.”

Strange how four words could sum up the torture, the abuse, the loss of self, the loss of love that Nicole had endured. The way the English language could condense the deepest experiences, the most potent emotions – conveying the meaning but none of what was truly underneath. It was the difference between listening and hearing. Between knowing and understanding.

“I went to hell,” she laughed, bereft of humor.

“I’m so sorry Nicole." 

Waverly shook her head at her own emotional ineptitude. She knew that no apology could ever make up for what happened, for not being able to bring her back, for getting her into that fatal situation in the first place.

“I know, Waves.” Nicole breathed out. “I’m sorry too.”

“Why are you sorry?”

_I’m sorry for what I’ve become._

“I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I came back.”

Simultaneously, both women felt their hearts break.

Nicole continued. “I um – I heard you crying. When I was laying down. I wasn’t trying to listen, I swear. But I heard everything. And I’m so, so sorry Waverly.”  

This was the Nicole that Waverly knew. A word-vomit machine when full of regret.

“I didn’t want Nedley to find me. I was just there. I woke up there but I couldn’t move. I was full of this…this energy but it hurt too much to move. He didn’t give me a choice. He cuffed me and put me in the car. I didn’t want to hurt him so I just let him do it and I –“

“Shhh.” Waverly dropped the washcloth on the side of the tub and gently cupped Nicole’s face in her hands. “Please stop. I’ve been wishing that you would come back to me every second of every day.”

Nicole started to shake her head in disbelief, but Waverly held her face just a little tighter and brought their foreheads together.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” The words came out in a broken-up whisper while she searched for the will to stop herself from kissing Nicole.

“I do.” The words were almost inaudible as they passed through Nicole’s lips, the breath expelled with every syllable dancing across Waverly’s own lips, reminding her of the other woman’s mortal warmth.

“What? Nicole did you do something?” Waverly dropped her arms from Nicole’s face and pushed herself back just far enough to search the other woman’s eyes.

“No. No. Not yet. I mean – no. I’m just…” Nicole bit her lip and averted her gaze, pulling her knees tighter to her chest, acutely aware of her own nudity. “There are things that you need to know. About me. About what happened.”

Waverly’s expression softened and she nodded. “I know that. I know we need to talk. But tonight you need to rest.”

Nicole knew that Waverly was oblivious to, or simply ignoring the profundity of her statement but she also knew that she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was exhausted. Wounded. Different.

“You’re right,” she surrendered.

“I know,” Waverly quipped. “Now let’s get you in to bed.”

* * *

Waverly Earp’s arm was wrapped protectively around Nicole’s torso, fingers splayed out across the other woman’s stomach. Nicole’s shirt had ridden up in the middle of the night allowing Waverly to feel the small bumps, cuts, and scars that had planted themselves on top of the woman’s bruised ribcage.

The youngest Earp used to have dreams of the redhead allowing her to be the big spoon once, just once, but not like this.

No matter how tightly she pulled Nicole’s body closer to her own, or how many times she whispered “ _you’re safe_ ” and “ _I’ve got you”_ to the sleeping woman – it wasn’t enough to stop the trembling.

Waverly had dismissed Nicole’s pleas for solitude earlier in the night. The resurrected woman had resisted Waverly’s wishes to stay the night before exhaustion and what seemed like fear had pushed her down into a fitful slumber. It made sense to her now, why Nicole had been so insistent on sleeping alone. The sounds of hitched breathing and moans of pain in the dead of night were enough to set off sirens in even the most stoic of creatures.

As the hours progressed and numbers on the clock climbed, Nicole’s restlessness grew worse. Waverly hadn’t been able to close her eyes since the other woman had fallen asleep – too afraid that Nicole would wake up in the middle of the night. Nicole’s body had shaken and stirred, twitched and twisted, but Waverly refused to let her go.

When the clock passed 3am, the cries began.

“Deus adiuva me.” Nicole whimpered.  Waverly picked her head up and sqinted, looking to see if the whites of Nicole’s eyes were visible. Was she still sleeping?

“Deus adiuva me.” Louder this time.

“Nicole, what? Are you awake?” Always the intellectual, Waverly attempted to excavate her knowledge of a certain dead language from the catacombs of her mind. Was it is a question? Was it a statement? And since when did Nicole know Latin?

Nicole’s body stiffened and shifted with supernatural speed. Waverly scrambled backwards, grabbing the sheets to prevent herself from falling off of the bed. Nicole was on her back, spine curved enough to lift her middle vertebrae off of the mattress.

“ **Deus adiuva me.** ” The other woman’s voice had deepened, hitting a lower register that no female should have been able to reach.

“Whoa,” she mumbled to herself, reaching a hand out to touch Nicole. “Nicole, wake up. Please.”

Waverly got up on her knees and straddled Nicole’s hips, pushing her hands down against Nicole’s shoulders. “Wake up! You’re dreaming!”

Nicole’s eyes shot open, glowing embers in the darkness of the room. Waverly’s own eyes widened, the brilliance of Nicole’s like nothing she’d ever seen. The light of her irises began as crimson and quickly morphed into a deep, spectacular shade of orange before they snuffed out, and her body fell limp onto the bed.

Waverly remained on top of Nicole until she was sure the other woman wouldn’t run, or levitate away. Her hands once again found themselves holding Nicole’s face, and she bent down to kiss her forehead, tasting the salty sweetness of her sweat.

“Nicole, are you with me?”

Nicole was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling in an unsteady rythm. It took her a moment until she could finally nod in response.

“Mhm,” was all she could manage.

It was enough for the Earp, who dismounted and transitioned herself back onto the mattress.

They sat in silence for a few moments while Nicole caught her breath and regained composure. When her breathing had slowed, Waverly leaned over to flip on the light. The two women stared at each other. Nicole’s eyes had returned to their mortal color though her complexion was painted with an ashen hue.

“Was that a nightmare?”

Nicole nodded.

“Okay, great. One question answered.” Waverly chuckled nervously. Nicole braced herself, knowing exactly what Waverly’s next question would be.

“But um...what the hell are you?”

“I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to follow me on this journey. 
> 
> Do you like the song recs that accompany each chapter? I can keep giving them if so. 
> 
> What do you think Nicole is? Am I leading you on? Who knows.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helllllloooo. Are you still with me? Please accept my sincerest apologies for the unexpected hiatus. I bought a house in October, and that coupled with work and holiday-related chaos pulled me away from this passion project. I am back now and ready for more action.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. I've got big plans for this story.

Nicole stood with her feet affixed to the sides of a treadmill that should have gone into retirement at least five years ago. Her hands were wrapped loosely around the lateral bar in front of her as she stared at her own reflection in the mirror. Nearly a dozen moon-shaped electrodes had been strategically placed on her chest and torso, all laid out to map her cardiac function. Her hair was tied up in a high pony tail, torso exposed with the exception of a plum colored sports bra. It had been the only one she could find on such short notice. Waverly had kept a lot of her clothing as relics, but they were mostly sweaters and old college t-shirts. The less sentimental items had been put into storage, or had been left sitting for so long that they took on an insufferable musty aroma. Deep down, she knew full well that the color of her sports bra didn’t exactly deserve such scrutiny – but she had to focus on something, anything other than the gaze of the stranger staring back at her in the mirror. The body she occupied no longer felt like home.

“Are you ready?” Dolls tenderly interrupted Nicole’s introspective examination of her physical identity.

Nicole blinked slowly in attempt to pull herself from her own mind and looked around the small exam room that Dolls had managed to “borrow”. Her eyes briefly caught Waverly’s before moving on to Doc, and finally Wynonna.

“Full house today,” she huffed. “Yeah. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

“You can do it,” Waverly murmured under her breath. Nicole could hear it clear as day.

Dolls nodded and pushed the start button on the treadmill, slowly bumping the speed up to a breezy 1.7 miles per hour. “Just a quick warm up,” he offered. “…and loosen your grip. It could interfere with the reading.”

Nicole obliged, walking excruciatingly slow for three minutes. Dolls bumped up the speed and incline ever so slightly and she continued with her stationary hike until Dolls increased the levels once again.

 “An average human should be reaching about 85% of their predicted heart rate at this stage. Yours hasn’t budged at all from your resting heart rate. How do you feel?”

 Nicole shrugged. “Fine.”

 With a nod of approval, Dolls increased the speed and incline once again. Nicole’s legs pumped a little faster, but her breathing remained even. The former deputy adapted quickly, though her EKG gave no indication of cardiac distress.

 “We’re going to go through one more stage before we try something different, Haught.” His tone was cool, even – though his own confusion was palpable. Even he broke a sweat during exercise.

 “Do what you need to do.”

“Be careful,” Waverly pleaded. Wynonna rolled her eyes in response. Doc remained quiet, an unlit hand-rolled cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

Without another word, Dolls cranked up the incline to 50% and increased the speed to 10 miles per hour. Nicole broke out into a run. After a few moments, she began breathing heavily, though sweat was yet to dampen her skin. The hum and buzz of the treadmill’s failing motor filled the room until Nicole slammed her hand on the stop button, startling the room’s other occupants.

“This isn’t doing anything other than reminding me that I forgot to eat dinner last night…and breakfast this morning.”

“It’s telling me that I need to work on my cardio,” Wynonna quipped, elbowing Waverly in the ribs for some validation of her humor.

“Actually,” Dolls paused. “It’s telling us that you have cardiovascular capabilities far beyond that of any human. Even now, you’re not breathing heavily. No cramps. No light headedness.”

Nicole nodded along with Dolls’ observations, ripping the electrodes from her skin and plopping down in a chair. “What’s next? You need to find out what I am so you can decide if Wynonna will have to kill me, right?”

Everyone in the room gasped at the uncharacteristic harshness of Nicole’s delivery. Nicole herself was taken aback by the brutality of her statement, and looked down at the floor, somewhat ashamed. “Sorry.” Her eyes moved up to meet Waverly’s, who’s eyes were already glassy at Nicole’s proposition.

 “No. You’re right, Haught. We need to find out what you are. And you’re not going to like the next test.”

* * *

“Is all of this really necessary?” Waverly asked, worry constricting her vocal chords until they elevated the pitch of her voice twofold.

“Yes.” Dolls grunted, strapping Nicole down to the medical facility’s bastardization of a bed.  

Waverly’s anxiety levels were rising, her usual flightiness only amplified by the situation at hand. She quickly bound across the small room to grab Nicole’s hand. Nicole squeezed it back after ten long seconds of hesitation.

“It’s okay, Waves.”

“I know you think this is cruel,” Dolls confessed. “I’m not trying to be. This is what we need to do.”

Wynonna had left the room to tend to some other Revenant-related business, but Doc still observed from the corner, stepping out to the center of the room. “Agent Dolls…if I may,” he drawled. “What young Waverly here fails to see is the necessity of what you’re about to put Ms. Haught through.”

“You guys can stop talking about me like I’m not here strapped to a table.”

Doc tipped his hat in apology and continued. “With any creature, supernatural or of this world there are only two ways to see what it’s made of. One is through its head and the other is through its heart. The heart usually heals faster than the head – at least in these kinds of unconventional circumstances.”

Waverly squeezed Nicole’s hand just a little tighter, before letting it go and stepping away from the other woman. “Will you stop if it gets to be too much?” Her eyes widened as she looked at Dolls, who nodded slowly.

“I will.”

Nicole’s body went rigid as she watched Dolls cross the room to grab the defibrillator. Her hands balled into tight, shaking fists. For the first time all day, she felt her heart begin to race. She was acutely aware of the blood that circulated through her veins, the pulsing so loud that it dampened the voices of her companions.

By the time Dolls had resumed his position at her side, Nicole had regained control of her body and managed to cease her shaking before anyone noticed. In hell, fear is the easiest thing to swallow.

Her eyes met Dolls’. There was a sadness in his eyes, but it was eclipsed by his need for answers, his methodical approach to everything he did. She understood his plight. Nicole watched in silence as he gently placed the two large electrode pads on her exposed skin, staggered on her chest for maximum efficacy.

“You’re not wearing an underwire, are you?”

Nicole shook her head.

“Good. Are you ready?”

“No. But do it anyway.”

The Deputy Marshal took a step back and turned a dial on the defibrillator machine. Pumping it up to 200J, he promptly pushed the charge button. After a few seconds he announced, “Stand back,” and pushed the button again.

Controlled lightning shot through Nicole Haught’s chest, her body jolting upward from the shock. Gasping for air, she fell back into the table, heaving, coughing; but showing no signs of supernatural influence. Dolls pushed the charge button again. Nicole’s head snapped back, a low growl stirring in the back of her throat.

Waverly took a step forward. “Dolls, this is too much. You’re going to hurt her!”

Dolls made a snap judgment. He was close to calling forth whatever it was that now lived inside Nicole Haught’s body. He could feel it. He could smell it. He pushed the charge button again. Nicole’s body jerked, snapping one of the straps that held her to the table. Doc took a step forward to help restrain her, but Dolls yelled out in protest. 

“Do not touch her!”

Another high voltage shock to the system.

That was all she needed.

Nicole’s eyes shot open, embers glowing deep within the irises. Her mouth opened as though she were gasping for air, guttural snarls passing through her lips. Her hands, still balled into fists were dyed crimson with her own dripping blood.

 “Please stop!” Waverly shouted.

 This time, Dolls listened.

 The former deputy expelled any excess energy that had accumulated from the shocks. Her eyes snapped shut, body falling limp. Her hands opened as she slipped into an ethereal state of unconsciousness. As her hands relaxed even further, Doc cocked his head to take a closer look. Her fingers and nails had elongated, sharpened like razor blades. The gashes they had left across her palms were already closing, drying blood the only evidence of her pain.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Doc mumbled.

“What?” Dolls and Waverly asked in unison.

Doc ignored them and stepped towards Nicole. He reached out and picked up one of her hands, examining the nails and joint position of each digit. “How the hell did you pull this one off, Haught?”

After a moment he set her hand down and reached into his pocket, fishing for his matchbook.

Waverly and Dolls stared at Doc is disbelief, one too distraught from the events that had transpired, and the other too perplexed to properly analyze the situation.

“Well?!” Waverly probed.

Doc opened up his matchbook, pulling out a small firestarter and swiping it to the point of combustion. He slowly raised it to the unlit-cigarette he had been nursing, and lit it up. He took a long, slow drag. Shaking his head, he blew out a cloud of smoke right over Nicole’s face.

“I know what she is…and you’re not going to want to be here when she wakes up.”


	5. Chapter 5

The very thought of losing control is a terrifying prospect to most people, usually for one of three reasons. The first, people are afraid of what will happen _to_ them. Second, they feared what would happen to others if they existed without supervision, without stability. The third reason is the one that buries itself deep inside the recesses of your soul. It is the shame we hold close to our hearts. It is the fear of just how deeply we might enjoy our little indulgences, despite the harm it might expose others to. Nicole Haught had always considered herself a conscientious control freak – one who would never dream of putting herself in a position to intentionally harm another human being. Not because she feared the possibility of enjoying it; but because it was the right thing to do – but as she pulled the thick wooden door of the exam room off of its hinges, her remaining humanity sent an SOS to her control centers. _We are having way too much fun._

The rush of enchanted adrenaline that was coursing through her veins had managed to subdue humanity, skewing her moral compass just enough. The young former deputy was operating on two levels of consciousness, and that in of itself was the Type A’s worst nightmare. Even so…the power was invigorating. The musky scent of fear still hung heavy in the air, notes of worry mixed in with tobacco, burnt coffee, and…Waverly.

Nicole blinked furiously in a desperate attempt to correct her vision, which had somehow dulled in her aggravated state. She was acutely aware of the burning sensation behind her eyes, a heat rising from deep within and escaping through her glowing irises. The colors of the facility were muted but her ears buzzed with everything from ambient noises, to voices outside, to the vibrating wings of the fly that landed on the wall three meters down the hall. Nicole didn’t realize that she’d been running until she found herself outside of the facility. Her nostrils flooded with the smell of hot tar and burned rubber; the sour aroma of a quick getaway. The distinct scent of the youngest Earp had faded, though it was still the first one Nicole registered. Waverly had been standing here, in this very spot…and she’d left quickly.

The suggestion of this abrupt abandonment caused a sad, anxious rage to swell deep within Nicole’s heart – and any sentience she held onto was swallowed up by her heightened emotions. Her fight or flight instincts had been called upon when Dolls was pumping her body full of electricity, the flood gates were open, and the most primal parts of her wanted to _fight_. Nicole tried to tell herself to stop and collect her thoughts, but a dark gnawing at the forefront of her mind stifled any reason she had been holding onto. Trapped in hell once again, Nicole was nothing more than an animal on the hunt.

* * *

Waverly recklessly unbuckled her seatbelt and gripped the back of the passenger van that Dolls was driving. Gripping the back of the driver’s seat with one hand, she balled her other into a fist and rammed it into Dolls’ bicep. Her anger eclipsed the minor pain that shot through her knuckles from the jab, and she poked her head between him and Wynonna – who was sitting in the passenger’s seat.

“What the hell did you do to her?”  Waverly demanded through gritted teeth.

“We were trying to elicit a response from whatever she became when she was sent to hell.” He replied coolly, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Yeah, no shit.” Waverly rolled her eyes.

Wynonna turned around to face her sister. “Calm down baby girl. At least your girlfriend’s not a revenant…right Doc?”

Doc nodded, sucking on another cigarette.

“She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t think. I’m not sure…” Waverly trailed off, remembering that Doc had an idea of what Nicole had become – something that he hadn’t been able to share on account of then fleeing for their lives. Wynonna and Dolls seemed to have had the same realization. Wynonna turned to silently interrogate Doc while Dolls used the overhead mirror to peek at the mustached man.

“What is she, Henry?” Waverly probed, using Doc’s real name to emphasize just how serious she was.

“Ms. Haught appears to be what some would call a primus furia…or is it furia primus? You’ll have to excuse me, Latin grammar escapes me at the moment.” 

Wynonna furrowed her brows and stared at Doc for stating what appeared to be the obvious. “Duh. It’s no wonder she’s furious, Doc. We just electrocuted her for Christ’s sake.”

A brief silence fell upon the van as they absorbed Wynonna’s momentary cluelessness.

“What?” Wynonna asked, jumping to the defensive.

“He didn’t say she was furious…although she is.” Waverly spoke up, on the precipice of an epiphany, “…she’s a hellhound.”

“That she is,” Doc confirmed. “But not just any. Her lack of a dewclaw suggests that she is in fact a pedigree.”

Wynonna choked on her own inappropriate laughter. “Dude. Could she win Best in Show at the Puppy Bowl?”

Waverly pulled back and slouched down into the van’s bucket seats, getting as far away from Wynonna as possible.

“I don’t mean to interrupt Wynonna’s comedic fashions but you don’t become this kind of hound on accident. Officer Haught has been keeping something from you.” Doc reached out to awkwardly rest his hand on Waverly’s shoulder, the best display of support he could muster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter is so short. I promise next chapter is 2K words of goodness. 
> 
> Surprise! ...kinda. Many of you guessed it - but there's a twist in there somewhere. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment. I live off of feedback.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me! I hope you like this one.

Nicole Haught had never been one to turn a blind eye to anything. Even in the throes of an otherworldly madness, she wouldn’t let herself fall into a blind rage. Ms. Pleat-in-her-Pants had been proud of her internal compass, her third eye’s North Star. No matter where she was heading, she knew the direction. This is why even in her bout of madness, she’d never act out with _complete_ reckless abandon. She’d never let her anger harm Dolls, or Waverly (especially Waverly). 

Her resurrection had planted within her keen instincts, primal emotions, unparalleled hearing, and well, a killer sense of smell. Most of these would serve her well in her endeavors, though the latter was still questionable. The winter winds whistled through the trees, pushed snow drifts up against their thick trunks, and plugged Nicole’s nostrils with the stale aroma of cheap cigars and gas station liquor.

Her nose crinkled in distaste, the offensive malodor only served to define the direction in which her anger would be placed. Bobo’s Trailer Park.

Bobo Del Ray had been put down a rabid dog. Nicole Haught knew this. He’d met her in hell and made her pay for fighting alongside the Earp heir. He drew such delight in poking and prodding her like cattle lined up for slaughter – that her blood boiled at the thought of being so close to something he helped create. The degenerate community that he cultivated, his legion of demons living in oversized tin cans. Nicole Haught was furious at what Xavier Dolls had done to her, but she was even more furious at what his little experiments reminded her of.

The way the fire had licked her skin. The way the hot iron chains burned through her flesh, rusted metal rubbing against bone. The laughter of Wynonna’s kills filling the abyss. Revenants hated hell because down there, they had nothing to do. Until Nicole was sent down with them. They thanked her with every burn, scratch, and cut for providing them with entertainment. They never _touched_ her – Bobo wouldn’t let them, but oh, did they torture her in so many other ways.

Hoarse laughter cut through the wind’s favorite tune, the sounds of sinister pleasure pushing Nicole over the edge. She’d heard laughter like that a thousand times. Perched atop of a snowbank overlooking the trailer park’s main entrance, Nicole let out a low growl and jumped off of the bank, gracefully sprinting down the hill and through the trailer park’s entrance. A few of the revenants were convened at the center of their little community, assembled around a large bonfire. Nicole could smell the lighter fluid they called vodka on their breath, even from yards away.

She crouched down, pushing herself against the back wall of a trailer and searched for some kind of distraction. After a few steps, she spotted a small branch that had fallen from a nearby tree. She picked it up and whipped it at the back of a revenant’s head.

“What the fu-…”

Nicole grabbed an icicle off of the trailer’s low-hanging roof, and launched it at another revenant. Now suddenly aware of their intruder –the demons broke off to search for their hidden opponent. Their eyes shifted from the bland human spectrum of color into a glowing red.

“Party time,” Nicole whispered to herself, though her voice was lower, colder. If she hadn’t known she’d said the words aloud, the voice would almost be unrecognizable. The former deputy jumped out from the behind the vacant trailer and whistled, arms at her sides, hands sprawled open as her phalanges elongated – nails hardening like steel on her fingertips.

“C’mon boys,” she called out.

The revenants turned to face her in unison six crimson eyes piercing through the darkness. They ran at her with supernatural speed, a speed that she could easily match. A primal, involuntary snarl passed through her lips as she struck the first revenant in the chest, her nails digging deep into his flesh. He cried out in pain as her nails sliced through the thin layers of flesh that covered his diaphragm. Nicole whipped her arm around and tossed the revenant aside as though he were nothing more than a rag doll.

One down (for now).

Two to go.

* * *

“Why are you pulling over, Dolls? We have to find Nicole.”

Dolls nodded along to the sounds of the youngest Earp’s persistence, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep tonight unless he made up for his previous cruelty. “I know,” he hushed her, turning around to meet her gaze. “I promise we’ll find her.”

“Can we hurry up?” Wynonna interrupted. “I have to pee.”

Dolls, Waverly, and Doc rolled their eyes – each looking out the window. Sprawled out before them was a whole lot of nothing. They had driven out close to the salt flats, hoping that the new beast within Nicole would be seeking an open road to run on, but it was becoming clear that she had other plans.

“Pee now if you have to,” Dolls replied, unlocking the doors to the van.

“Seriously?’

“Don’t act like you haven’t done this before.”

“Fine.” Wynonna unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the van, running around the back to relieve herself under the shroud of darkness.

While he waited for Wynonna to finish emptying her bladder, Dolls took the silence as an opportunity to tune into the police scanner. Tweaking a few dials on the van’s stereo-system, he managed to intercept Sheriff Nedley’s radio feed.

_Possible 187 with reported 240 over at Bobo’s Trailer Park. One female, 5’10, red hair. Three males, average height, slightly overweight._

Sheriff Nedley’s voice echoed through the radio scanner. “Thank you Deputy Charles. We’re getting some familiar feedback on this call, which can only mean one thing. Black Badge – I’ll meet you over there.”

Dolls shook his head at Nedley’s coyness and laid his hand on the van’s horn. Two honks later, Wynonna was jumping into the van, wiping her hands on her pants.

“Let’s do this thing.”

* * *

 Waverly pushed both her sister and her former lover through the front door of the Earp residence, with the male members of their little suicide squad following closely behind. The youngest Earp’s brand of squirrely authority impressed and terrified her counterparts, but she was on a mission to get a grasp on their current situation.

“You!” She leered at Nicole and pointed to a chair. “You’re in trouble. Sit! Down!”

Nicole, who’s face was lightly dusted with cigar ash and revenant blood, did as she was told.

“And you,” Waverly turned her attention to her older sister, who was snickering at her sister’s tone. “Not a word from you.”

Turning on her heel, Waverly scanned through the remaining crew members: Nedley, Dolls, and Doc. “I want to know exactly what happened back there. And I wanted to know exactly what Nicole is. _Comprende_?”

Fearing for their lives, they nodded in unison.

Nedley took a step forward, his thumbs hooked around his belt. “I think I should be leaving. I’m not sure if I need to charge Deputy Haught here with murder or …attempted murder?” He rubbed his temples. “On second thought, I ain’t chargin’ her with anything. I’m pretending I know nothing about you people. I got Cake Wars on the TiVo and a mug of tea with my name on it.”

With that, Nedley turned around and left the Earp household, no doubt speeding away from the homestead with blood pressure higher than a harvest moon.

An awkward silence fell upon the room until Doc cleared his throat. “I do believe that I should be retiring for the evening as well. I have some reading to do on The Wikipedia.” Doc slowly stepped backwards and out of the house while Dolls, Wynonna, Waverly, and Nicole watched him retreat. The door slammed shut.

A blanket of understanding settled upon them and they soon affixed themselves to chairs around the kitchen table. 

“Okay. I’m just going to say it,” Wynonna broke the silence. “You ripped Hank the Tank Crenshaw’s head clean off.”

“I did, yeah.” Nicole bowed her head, slightly ashamed despite the justifications she could make.

“You’re more than just a run-of-the-mill hellhound, aren’t you? Dolls questioned her, folding his hands in front of him.

Nicole nodded. “I haven’t been…completely honest.”

Waverly gasped, a disappointed sadness washing over her as Nicole confirmed what she already knew.

“There are some things you need to know,” Nicole continued. 

Waverly swallowed her pride, recognizing the guilt in Nicole’s eyes, and reached out, taking Nicole’s hand in her own.

“Start at the beginning. Tell us everything.”

* * *

A thirteen-year old Nicole Haught stood in the bathroom of her parent’s home, trembling with fear. Her pants were ruined, a deep crimson staining the seam. Her mouth was dry, face numb. Her parents told her that this day would come, they just weren’t sure when. She scrambled around the bathroom, looking for something to cover up her rite of passage. Her eyes quickly settled on the sink. She shoved her pants into the bowl and turned the hot water on. _Hot water is better at removing stains, right?_ She furiously pumped the Dial hand soap onto her pants and worked them in her hands, praying to whomever, or whatever, would help the stains go away. “Please, please, please…” she muttered to herself.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “Nicole? Who are you talking to you? What are you doing in there?” The doorknob wiggled. “Why did you lock the door?”

“Privacy, mom!” She shouted, wincing at what would come next.

A mechanical click signified the unlocking of the bathroom door from the outside. “Make sure you’re decent, I’m coming in.”

Nicole turned the sink off and reached for a towel, wrapping it around her 3/4 –dressed body. The door slowly creaked open, and her mother, Diane, stepped inside.

“Honey, what are you doing in here?”

“Nothing,” she lied coolly.

Diane’s eyes scanned the small interior of the bathroom for some semblance of the truth before she caught a glimpse of Nicole’s pants in the sink. Her eyes lit up, though her lips curved into a frown as she realized what Nicole was trying to do.

“Oh, honey. You need to use cold water for blood stains.”

The hair on the back of Nicole’s neck stood up at her mother’s statement. She swallowed and nodded in response.

“Nicole – you know you shouldn’t hide this from me. Do you know what this means?”

“I’m…a woman now?”

Her mother nodded proudly. “You’re a woman now. And do you know what else?”

Nicole stood frozen, knowing full-well what it meant.

“It means you’re finally old enough to go down to the River. Let me tell the rest of the family. Tonight – we celebrate.”

Two hours later, Nicole was bathed and clothed in a flawless white cotton dress and white veil that her mother had purchased in anticipation of this very day. Her mother and father were standing on either side of her, each holding one of her hands as they stared out into the darkness of the River. Behind them stood dozens of others, each cloaked in black. The women’s faces were hidden by thin black veils, while the men’s faces were reduced to mere shadows beneath their hulking hoods.

Torches lined the river bank, wisps of smoke rising from the wall of fire.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” Diane asked, though something told Nicole that she’d have to be ready, whether or not she wanted to be.

“Yes,” she finally replied.

Her father, Darren, looked down at her and nodded encouragingly. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Our God opened up his veins and bled into this very water to nourish and cleanse the souls of those who open up to him. When you take him into your heart he will bestow upon you power, immortality…and most importantly; purpose.” 

Nicole bit her tongue to distract herself from the fear that boiled her veins, and nodded.

“It’s time.”

Darren and Diane released their daughter’s hands and moved their hands to her back, pushing her towards the water. Nicole’s knees buckled, but she caught herself and trudged on. As her small feed padded across the riverbank and reached the water, the flames around her lifted, strengthening as she drew nearer.

Now up to her knees in the water, Nicole turned around to face her audience. From the water, they looked like powerful apparitions, haunting her until she bent to their will. That’s exactly what they were.

The young girl took a deep breath, spread her arms, and fell back into the water. The cool liquid warmed as it embraced her, the impenetrable darkness swallowing her whole. Nicole felt the bone-chilling sensation of arms wrapping around her from the river’s floor, holding her in place until she felt her lungs begin to burn. As she gasped for air and sucked in a mouthful of water, the arms released her, pushing her back to the surface.

Her eyes opened, her body floating. The stars were somehow dampened, the moon hidden behind a thick cloud. It took her a moment, but she finally stood up to stare back at her parents and their companions. They had all aligned along the river bank to watch her baptism, their heads bowed in some demented prayer. Nicole looked down at herself. Her pure white cotton dress now dyed obsidian.

“Welcome,” they greeted her in unison. “You are now a servant of the great one. Your devotion will be rewarded in the next life.”

“I am devoted,” Nicole coughed, more fearful than committed. 

“Who do you serve?” They asked, their collective voices overwhelming the young girl.

_Bulshar._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That took a hot minute! Let me know what you think.
> 
> There's some action coming up. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me on this ride.

Nicole wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere in the midst of her explanation, Waverly had let go of her hand to wrap her arms around herself as though she were trying to keep her body from collapsing. And though Nicole understood the need to do such a thing now more than ever, her empty hand remained on the table, open and waiting for its companion.

Chocolate colored eyes read the room, bouncing from the pensive expression on Dolls’ face, to the wild bewilderment of Wynonna’s, to the stoicism of Waverly’s. It didn’t take long for her eyes to settle on the emptiness of her own palm, outstretched and waiting for its keeper like a phantom in limbo. When she realized that Waverly had withdrawn too far to come back in that moment, she willed herself to ball her hand into a fist before dropping it into her lap.

Dolls had acquired some compassion since sitting down to hear Nicole’s story, but Waverly had been growing visibly more agitated. Wynonna, though confused, was obligated to mime her sister’s reaction to the situation. Nicole might have been dead and out of touch for several months, but she still knew about an Earp woman-scorned. Whether she liked it or not, she had lied by omission; making her brave little toaster burned in her wake.

“Bulshar,” Dolls repeated the demon’s name as though to test it out, computing the moniker into his mental repository.

“More like bullshit,” Waverly mumbled under her breath.

Nicole micro-nodded in agreement to her ex-girlfriend’s sentiment.

“Enough.” Dolls asserted, shooting an authoritative glance in Waverly’s direction. Wynonna kicked her superior beneath the table.

“Look, I know that I…that I didn’t tell everyone the truth. I know how dangerous that was. And I’m sorry but I spent so much time running away from them – from that world that I never imagined it would catch up to me so fast.”

“I thought you trusted me,” Waverly broke.

 “I did. I do. I’m telling you now.”

Wynonna shook her head. “Did you put my baby sister in danger by not telling us about your bull worshipping cult?”

“Bulshar,” Nicole corrected.

“Whatever. You knew about something big and dangerous with the ability to create demons and you didn’t tell **anyone**.” 

Nicole winced at the word demon, and the way Wynonna had uncharacteristically packed so much venom into two syllables. “You’re right. It was wrong.”

“It was foolish,” Dolls agreed, though his expression was still softer than the other women’s. “…but sometimes we don’t have a choice in what we’re chosen for.” He looked at Wynonna, then Waverly, and back to Nicole before continuing. “I think that’s something we can all agree with, hm?”

Begrudgingly, each woman nodded – connected by the burden of their family secrets.

Several beats of silence passed before Nicole decided to speak once again. “Why did I come back? Why am I alive right now?”

“The other day I kinda died,” Wynonna admitted.

Waverly’s eyes doubled in size before she turned to Wynonna. “You what?!”

“It was just for a second! Okay. Ten seconds. But that’s it. Right, Dolls?”

“Wynonna was without a pulse for twenty-one-point-seven seconds.”

“Dead enough to bring back all of the revenants?” Waverly probed.

“Don’t think so. Just Nicole, so far.”

“But Nicole wasn’t a revenant.”

“I was killed by Peacemaker. I was ‘blessed’ by Bulshar.”

“Blessed?”

“Cursed. Sorry. Old habits,” she chuckled nervously.

“Maybe there was an exception? The innocent come back? I don’t friggin’ know. Wyatt never left us a rule book.” Wynonna threw her hands up in defeat.

“Tomorrow we’ll look into it and see if there have ever been any precedents to this. We need to know what to expect if Nicole wasn’t the only thing coming back from hell.”

Waverly nodded, grateful that Dolls had elected himself as captain and commander of the conversation. Wynonna pushed her chair back from the table and clapped her hands.

“As much as I love feeling the tension between my sister and her undead girlfriend – I need to go to bed.”

Dolls excused himself from the table and meandered upstairs with Wynonna, discussing the night’s events in hushed whispers.

Before they could protest, Waverly and Nicole were alone at the table.

An ocean between them.

* * *

 

 Stalemate.

Nicole Haught and Waverly Earp were at a stalemate. Waverly sat with perfect posture in the uncomfortable wooden chair tapping her foot against the floor at an alarmingly high tempo. Nicole was leaning forward, elbows and hands on the table as she searched Waverly’s face for some semblance of… _something_. For answers to questions she hadn’t been able to ask.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Nicole started, before snapping her mouth shut and starting over. Anything resembling a “what do you want from me” is a no-no in the game of wooing a woman. “What I mean is. I don’t get you. One minute you’re sobbing in my bathroom because I’m alive. The next minute you’re washing my back. One second you’re holding my hand and the next? You’re looking like you want to put me in the ground next.”

Waverly’s eyes narrowed at Nicole’s comment.

 “If you **ever** die on me again I’m bringing you back to life so I can kill you myself.”

 “Case in point!” Nicole threw her hands up in the air. “I know I messed up, Waves. I didn’t want you to know where I came from. I spent years trying to deny the fact that I was destined to end up in hell. I didn’t want to think about where I was going. I just wanted to think about where I was. With you. With Black Badge. With all of this. I wanted _this_.”

“Maybe I wanted you to trust me enough to walk through hell with you.”

“I’d never let you.”

 “Look where it got us.”

“Tell me what you want me to do or say and I’ll do it.”

Waverly shrugged in response.

“Waves, I am so, so sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the truth. I’m sorry that I died. I’m sorry that I came back. Is that what you need to hear? I’m sorry that I came back into your life after leaving for what was supposed to be the last time but I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t have a choice in any of this.” Nicole’s eyes had welled up before she could even spit out the first apology. The tears were flowing freely by the end, a sight and chipped away at Waverly’s resolve until her own eyes were pricked by devastation’s needle.

“Stop. Please.” 

Nicole inhaled hard, swallowing her tears and a hefty chunk of pride. “Do you want me to leave Purgatory? I’ll go and I won’t look back if it means you can move forward.”

 Waverly’s nostrils flared at Nicole’s suggestion. Had Nicole always been this stubborn? “Don’t you **dare** …” Waverly was cut off by a thud in the next room. A few seconds later an embarrassed Wynonna hobbled back in to the room where the two younger women had been facing off.

“Sorry to interrupt? I was really craving a peanut butter quesadilla.”

 “It’s fine. We were done down here.” Waverly muttered, unamused.

 Nicole cocked her head in confusion and tried to concoct an explanation for Wynonna’s strange food combinations, but before the synapses could fire Waverly had grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the room.

By the time Waverly released her vice grip on Nicole’s wrist, the tiny little soldier had managed to pull the taller woman up the stairs and into her bedroom. Nicole looked around. The room was different than she remembered…but then again, so was Waverly. They were both different now.

_Maybe too different._

“What is this?” Nicole pressed. “Did you bring me up here so you could confuse me in a fresh, new environment?” She took a few steps away from Waverly to observe her surroundings. It was too hard to tell whether or not she was in friendly or hostile territory. Weird how being dead will really shake up the dynamics of a relationship. 

But Nicole wasn’t done admonishing Waverly yet. “I went to hell, Waverly. Hell! And this whiplash you’re giving me hurts almost as bad as what they did to me. I need to know. Right now. I need you to tell me if you’ve moved on so far that you can’t even stand to look at me, because that’s the only explanation I can find for this.”

“Stop talking,” Waverly whispered. Her inability to processes Nicole’s death and resurrection was manifesting dangerously. Her acute inability to cope was closely resembling Wynonna’s; a reality that she was yet to face.

“You know what, Waves? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here.”

Nicole’s eyes locked in on Waverly’s. She held the glance for a few seconds, just long enough to form a memory that would hold her over until the chips fell into place. If they ever did. Waverly stood frozen in place too, her heart thumping hard enough to rattle her ribcage.

“Goodnight.” _Goodbye?_

The newly anointed hellhound slowly pivoted on her heel and took a careful step towards the hallway. Despite her newly acquired strength, her limbs felt heavy. With a deep breath, Nicole took another step towards the door, when she felt nimble fingers wrap around her wrist once again. There was bound to be a bruise there in the morning – or there would have been if she were still human. 

Nicole turned around to look at her gentle captor and was met with glassy doe eyes. Her knees buckled, but she stood steadfast and tall, even as Waverly released her. With the help of a little rip current, they crossed the ocean between them. Waverly’s hands were suddenly holding Nicole’s face in place. Nicole’s arms were instinctively wrapping around the smaller woman’s body, lifting her up as their lips touched.

They didn’t part until the rooster crowed the next morning.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, my friends. I have a lot planned. I even have another update to this story that's already written and will be published this week. 
> 
> There's also a reference to another incredible show somewhere in here. I'll give you a cookie if you can point it out.

Nicole Haught had envisioned herself punching Xavier Dolls in the face more times than she could count, but she never imagined that her fantasy would ever become reality until now. As her sneaker-clad feet propelled off the ground, avoiding an expertly-executed leg sweep, her fist connected with his well-muscled body. They grunted in unison: him from the impact, her from the exertion. He stumbled back a few steps, panting as Nicole’s feet planted themselves back firmly on the training mat they had installed in the police station’s break room.   
“Yes! Good job baby!” Waverly cheered, bouncing on the balls of her feet and clasping her hands together in excitement. 

“Baby? Really?” Wynonna mumbled, kinking a brow in her sister’s direction. “She lies to you, comes back from the dead all –,” Wynonna paused to mime dog ears with her hands, sticking her tongue out in an exaggerated pant, “-and you’re already back to calling her baby?”

Waverly smiled, blowing a kiss at Nicole, half for the hellhound’s benefit, and half to spite her sister. The moment Nicole looked away to focus on her sparring partner, Waverly’s eyes through daggers at the heir. “Yes, if you must know. And will you cut it out with the protective sister shtick? You’re forgetting that Nicole died fighting on our side.” 

“You’re forgetting that she comes from a Bolshevik cult!” 

“Bulshar,” Waverly and Nicole corrected her in unison. “You’re forgetting that I can hear you,” Nicole continued, blocking another one of Dolls’ offensive moves. 

“Whatever,” Wynonna rolled her eyes and raised a cup of decaf coffee to her lips. 

The sisters refocused on the supernatural UFC match that was playing out before them, inching back as the fight surface expanded. Both Dolls and Nicole were slowly giving in to whatever animals now lived within them – the beasts happy to be met with a formidable opponent. Desks had become dented within the span of ten minutes, their bodies connecting with the thin metal frames. Dolls had managed to land a few punches on Nicole’s trunk, but she was proving to be much quicker than he was – a fact that did not sit well with the deputy marshal. 

Waverly and Wynonna stood completely captivated and a little turned on at the sight of their partners’ abilities in action. After several moments, Waverly turned to her sister once more. “I’m going to get more coffee. Do you want some?” 

“Yes – wait no. Is there any decaf?”

“Decaf? Who are you and what did you do with Wynonna?”

“N-nothing,” Wynonna scoffed. “I just feel jittery. God. What’s with the inquisition?” 

“Nothing. Yikes. Somebody’s on edge this morning.” Waverly rolled her eyes and moved to the back of the room to pour herself another cup of coffee. 

“Harder!” Dolls shouted, the unexpected elevation of energy in the room causing Waverly to spill her liquid breakfast. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Dolls.” Nicole’s voice was even, as though the high intensity cardio workout that she’d been participating in was a walk in the park. 

“Hit me, Haught. We won’t know what you can do until you do it.”  
Nicole shook her head. “I don’t want to.” 

Hearing the minor conflict happening in front of the room, she scurried back to stand beside her sister. 

“Dolls, we can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

“It’s okay, Waves.” Nicole turned her attention to the younger woman and smiled encouragingly. Despite her reluctance, she knew that it was something that would need to be done. She needed to prove herself to him. To Wynonna. And to Waverly, despite the youngest Earp’s insistence that they could pick up where they left off. 

Sensing her vulnerability and distraction, Dolls charged at Nicole and wrapped his arms around her body. He picked her up off the ground with ease and slammed her onto the mat below so hard she bounced off of it before laying flush against the now damp and sweaty rubber. Nicole growled at Dolls, visibly rattled at the sneak attack. Jumping up off the ground, the irises of Nicole’s eyes glimmered. Nicole began to perspire, her heartrate rising. Dolls’ trained ears could sense the biological change in his opponent, and he smirked with pride. He met her predatory gaze, his own eyes shimmered a brilliant fiery hue. 

Nicole let her arms fall at her sides, her hands tense, fingers spread. Wynonna and Waverly backed up even more, positioning themselves behind a desk as they watched sharp claws break out from beneath the skin of the former cop’s fingertips. 

“Uh, guys?” Wynonna was timid in her interjection, and decided it was best to stay back. 

Dolls and Nicole circled each other on the mat; the woman growling, the man’s chest expanding like that of a threatened lizard. Before Waverly could release the breath that she’d been holding onto since she saw Nicole’s claws, the two creatures lunged at each other – a cloud of what looked like smoke trailing behind each of them. The Earp sisters watched as their lovers sparred, unable to discern who was winning, or who was responsible for the smell of burning rubber in the air. 

At last their jumbled and distorted forms parted. Dolls’ eyes had changed, the vibrant color completely eclipsing his human iris. He reared back and opened his mouth. A growl escaped first, following by a thick line of fire. The flames licked Nicole’s skin and she micro-flinched, remembering her afterlife…and then it happened. Her claws reached out to meet the flames, and they soon enveloped her entire body. A five-foot-ten-inch ball of fire stood tall and strong, her eyes glowing even brighter than the flames she had absorbed. Nicole stood there for a few moments and the flames flickered out, the thermal energy seeping into her wanton skin, thirsty for more. 

Dolls returned to his fully-human state and was now standing beside Wynonna and Waverly as the last of the flames were snuffed out by Nicole’s hell-forged form. 

“Wow,” Wynonna breathed out – looking at the soot-soaked and very naked body of Nicole Haught. 

“Oh! Oh my god!” Waverly grabbed an emergency blanket from the desk drawer and threw it at Nicole. “Your clothes! They burned!”

“I knew it! On TV their clothes never burn. I feel lied to,” Wynonna mumbled. 

Dolls rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile at his victory.

The room was buzzing with energy. Some nervous, some kinetic, some mystical, some joy…but Nicole Haught was yet to speak, even as she pulled the thick wool blanket around herself even tighter. It took several moments before she could come down from the high Dolls had given her. 

“Guys…,” she started – every cell in her body buzzing from the blaze of glory that had just been bestowed upon her. “That was nifty.”


	9. Chapter 9

Nicole was acutely aware of Waverly’s hand on her shoulder, even through the wooly armor that was still draped around her recently combusted body. Thankful for the flush her Human Torch moment had given her, Nicole felt a pang of guilt take root deep in her gut. Waverly’s touch, on occasion, still felt like that of a stranger. She had shed her skin during her tenure in hell, and her new body was still growing used to the earthly experiences she had been thrust back into. Her found-family had expectations of her, after all. Wynonna and Dolls had expected her to perform. To be set ablaze by the thrill of combat. Waverly had tried to be more subtle in her approach, but Nicole could hear the pitter-patter of the younger woman’s heart every time they touched, even in passing.

Who was she to deprive the woman she loved of…well, her love? Just because the fire and brimstone burned away each patch of skin that Waverly Earp had once touched, kissed, licked, and loved – didn’t mean that those flames destroyed the sinews of her heart. No, the love was there. That love would always be there. The few short months they had spent falling in love the first time around were full of magic that transcended any monster or witch they’d encountered. It would remain forever etched into the very fabric of their lives. Even so – something was different. This was a fact that Nicole had admitted to no one outside of herself. It was something she wanted Waverly to recognize too, but only on her own. Waverly had mourned her death, she’d seen it from down below. There was no way in heaven or hell she’d put Waverly through the pain of mourning their love, too.

“Hey, where are you?” Waverly probed gently, recognizing her girlfriend’s glassy-eyed expression.

“I’m here, baby.” Nicole closed her eyes and leaned into Waverly, hoping the contact would quell whatever anxieties had been brewing within the other woman.

“You’re somewhere else,” Waverly protested.

“I’m not. I promise. I’m just…tired. I must have burned all of my energy.”

“Okay. Do you want to come home with me tonight?”

“I’d love to Waves, but…” Nicole trailed off, looking for something that didn’t resemble a thinly-veiled excuse, “I didn’t feed Calamity Jane today and Nedley’s on third shift tonight so I can’t even ask him.”

Nicole swore she could see Waverly deflate the more she rambled. A tired sigh passed through her lips, and she ran a hand through her hair.

“It’s okay, really.”

“Waves, I’m sorry. How about I go home, feed her, and then see how I feel?”

“Mhm.” 

Nicole turned to look at Waverly. Sweet, soft Waverly. She didn’t deserve any of this. She didn’t deserve to be collateral damage in the Earp curse. She didn’t deserve a life in peril. She deserved safety and stability. Nicole’s heart swelled, and she craved that familiarity they’d once shared. Surrendering to her own impulse, she gently brought her fingers over to Waverly’s jawline and encouraged her to turn so that they were facing each other. Nicole’s eyes searched Waverly’s and found a stunning combination of disappointment, sorrow, longing, and…love. Just what she needed. Without saying another word Nicole closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against Waverly’s, her fingertips still dancing along the soft edges of her lover’s jawline. They stayed there for a few moments until the inevitable interjection of Wynonna, who loudly cleared her throat until their lips separated, a glowing blush now flooding the cheeks of all three women.

“Soooooo,” Wynonna started, swinging the keys to the drunk around her finger. “Anyone want a ride home?”

“I’m going to walk home. Still feeling a little worked up,” Nicole replied.

“I bet you are after that,” Wynonna remarked.

“I’ll ride with you,” Waverly cut in – saving Nicole from the embarrassment of engaging with her one track-minded sister.

* * *

The moon cast a soft amber glow across the town of Purgatory, the lunar lighting so warm and gentle that an unsuspecting passerby might simply take the town for one with an unfortunate name; rather than for what it really was: a town with an unfortunate name **and** an alarmingly high demon population. Nicole knew her resurrection meant that the town had at least one more demon to enter into the next census, but hopefully not one that Wynonna would ever have to amend. Despite knowing her status as a non-Revenant, Nicole knew that anyone, no, anything, born in flames might one day have to be extinguished.

Her abilities had been put on display tonight, abilities that she didn’t even know she had, but her intuition told her that there was something more. 

Nicole was no longer a human. At her worst, she was a demon.  At her best, she was an animal.

The animal within felt particularly alive tonight. The moon was not full; though she was still a rotund gibbous. The night was brisk enough to manifest apparitions with each exhalation, the cold soothing Nicole’s perpetual fever. Donning just a tank top and a pair of too-big joggers, Nicole savored the bite of the winter’s night.  

Nicole carried herself down one of the back roads that would ultimately guide her home, opting for the quiet, scenic route. Her body was quite literally still cooling down from the exertion, and the chill in the air did wonders for her skin, which felt as raw and blistered as it did the first night she spent in hell. Thankfully, the pain was only hers to bear, as her skin seemed to be invulnerable to superficial wounds. With little more than a mile until she would reach her front porch, Nicole felt compelled to cater to her inner animal. She stopped, side-stepping off of the road to avoid becoming roadkill, and removed her socks and shoes.

Balling her socks up and stuffing them into her sneakers, Nicole grounded herself in the earth. The ground was hard beneath her feet, the grass frozen stiff. Nicole dug her toes into the hardened soil and inhaled deeply. As a child she used to do this – and would often be met with disdain from her parents. The way she rooted herself to the ground, her mother had called it “earthing”, and said it was disrespectful to their savior, the demon Bulshar. Earthing was for those who wished to seek power and energy from the earth – a dirty and spoiled ritual in the eyes of the cult. Power obtained outside of the confines of Bulshar’s reign was not power at all, but a bastardization of His will.

Nicole shook the thought away and rocked back so that her heels dug into the ground – her final rebellion for the night.

Holding her sneakers in one hand, Nicole broke off into a sprint. Her long legs carried her through the grass, now avoiding the unnatural surface of the road. She instinctively leapt over fallen limbs that she somehow _felt_ before she could even see them – not once losing stride. The faster she ran, the more her body adjusted. The itching beneath her skin subsided, the lava in her veins cooled down, her heartbeat steadied. Nicole didn’t stop running until she hit the bottom step of her front porch – when something from the recesses of her mind told her to stop moving. Her body fought the suggestion with all its might, but her limbs felt like boulders as she tried to trudge up the shallow stairs. 

* * *

 

“Stop.”

A single command was tied up and thrown into the breeze. One powerful, single syllable swept up and carried into the subconscious of one cantering hellhound.

No more than fifty yards away, a minx-coated man crouched down in the grass. His crimson irises glowing in the night – easily written off as the fancy new headlights of a slowly approaching car. His eyes were trained on the moving form of Officer Nicole Haught, who was fast – but not too fast. He watched her with laser-like precision, counting down the seconds, until _she_ stopped.

Right on cue.

The man raised a hand and scratched his chin through his unruly, salt and pepper beard. He wouldn’t celebrate yet. Instead, he watched as Nicole struggled to move, her legs trembling as she stood frozen, as though uninvited to her own home. He watched until the trembling in her legs slowed and began to once again propel her forward, still slow as molasses.

“Stop,” he commanded again, in nothing more than a hushed whisper. “Stop and turn around.”

Within seconds, her forward momentum had ceased, and her body slowly turned to face the seemingly empty horizon.

The commander grinned a Cheshire grin, a sinister laugh expelling the air from his undead lungs.

“Good doggy,” he teased. “Now go inside and get some rest.”

He watched from a distance as the hellhound wordlessly bounded up the stairs and into her home. Within ten minutes, the lights flipped off.

Darkness, except for his eyes. The familiar ocular flare of Bobo Del Rey; unseen, unrecognized, but still in control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, friends! i'm sorry it took so long. i am stuck in a cycle of "i think i waited too long to update, now no one cares so i should just give up" and simultaneously loving this story and wanting to write more. 
> 
> i hope you enjoy this update. 
> 
> if i take too long next time, feel free to yell at me on twitter @maggiejsta 
> 
> thanks! love you all for sticking with me.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! hope you enjoy.  
> xoxo

Waverly padded across the small enclosed kitchen of the homestead and haphazardly dropped her dishes into the sink, wincing as the ceramic clashed with the stainless steel of her silverware. Casting a quick glance over her should to make sure her moment of frustrated carelessness hadn’t been observed, or even worse, judged – Waverly quickly bounded back out of the room and around the corner. The youngest Earp had hoped that she’d be able to bury her annoyance at Nicole’s extreme lack of a goodnight call (or text), but Wynonna was having none of it. The Earp heir was casually perched on the stairs, hanging over the railing to get a better view of Waverly, a wry smile on her lips.

“Trouble in paradise?” Wynonna probed, cocking her head to the side in playful curiosity.

“No,” Waverly huffed. “Maybe. I don’t know." 

Wynonna bounced down the stairs and wrapped one arm around her sister, pulling her into the sitting room. She wordlessly guided her sister to the couch, where they both plopped down and instinctively scooted closer to one another. Waverly leaned to one side and rested her head on Wynonna’s shoulder; a gesture that brought the warmth back into Wynonna’s eyes. She’d never admit it, but she lived for these small moments of normalcy. They both did. It was a luxury that had not been afforded to them in their childhoods, but they were determined to make up for lost time. After Nicole’s death, they sat like this often. When Waverly’s head wasn’t buried into Wynonna’s chest, drenching her sweater with salt water, they would sit like this. Sometimes in silence. Sometimes watching television. Just existing together.

Wynonna was grateful that even though they’d found themselves in this position again, it was for a much lesser trauma. It was something that could be fixed. Probably. Maybe.

“What’d Officer Merida with a Flat Iron do now? Or was it Jeremy? God, you know I told him to use the Poo-Pourri next time he drinks too much coffee.”

Waverly snorted and shook her head at Wynonna’s scatological attempt at humor. “No, it’s not Jeremy. And it’s nothing Nicole’s done. It’s what she hasn’t done.”

“Have you two not done the…” Wynonna began awkwardly gesticulating with her hands, hoping she could mime something that would resemble…

“No! I mean, we haven’t done _that_ either but…it’s just that she told me she would call. If she’s tired she usually can manage to send me a heart or two.”

“Gross,” Wynonna interrupted.

“I was hoping she was going to come over tonight. We’ve talked but we haven’t really talked.”

“Not sure what you mean, baby girl.”

“She’s just been different. Nicole was always so open and warm with me and now, there’s something different. You know the other day I lit a candle and she flinched. I went to brush some hair out of her face and she moved backwards. Which is okay, it’s okay I understand. Well, I don’t understand but I get it. I know that she went through something terrible, but we haven’t talked about _it_. And beyond what we all saw at the station – I don’t know what she’s capable of.”

“Slow down, cowgirl.” Wynonna shifted slightly on the couch to get a better look at her sister’s now panicked expression. “Nicole went to hell. This curse is _hell_ , but she went to the real place. We’re in Disney Land’s version of hell. She went to the actual hell. She’s going to be different. And yes – she might be dangerous but according to my research, all gingers are.” Wynonna didn’t want to let on that she too, was concerned with the depth and unpredictability of Nicole’s newfound abilities. It wasn’t the time nor the place. Right now, what they both needed was some good old-fashioned relationship drama.

“I guess you’re right,” Waverly sighed.

“You bet your sweet ass I am,” Wynonna grinned, and planted a loud, smacking kiss on her sister’s temple. “Now get to bed! You’ll need your energy for when you rip Nicole a new one for not calling.”

* * *

The sun was rising, the color of sweet sherbet on the horizon. Nicole Haught could feel the rays casting a blanket over her already-warmed skin. The familiar sensation of heat, too much heat, quickly roused her into consciousness. She sat up, quickly, and rubbed her eyes, then her temples. There was a dull ache forming a crown around her head, a gently tinny-ringing in her ears. She took a few steadying breaths to clear her mind and banish the unwanted cerebral sensations. Nicole looked around her room, the room of a stranger. Though nothing had changed since she died, she couldn’t help but feel like a guest in her own home. Before she could make a mental note to ask Waverly to help her re-decorate – she remembered.

Waverly.

Nicole scrambled to find her phone, which she’d uncharacteristically forgotten to plug in before she went to bed. 5% battery remained. Still sleepy-brained and unable to access her executive functions and plug in her phone, Nicole opted to use the remaining 5% to read the messages Waverly had sent to her overnight.

_Hey, you up?_

_You said you’d let me know what the plan was tonight. Did you at least make it home safe?_

_Did I do something wrong?_

_I guess you won’t be coming over tonight._

_I hope you’re okay. I’m sorry._

Her thumbs moved adeptly across the touchscreen of her phone. Forgetting about the failing battery, Nicole began to type out a message…until the screen went black. “Ugh!” Nicole growled in frustrations and tossed her phone, jumping back in shock, and later concern, as the device flew across the room and shattered against the wall – an unforeseen side effect of increased strength and a slightly elevated temper.

“God damnit." 

Not wanting to escalate the situation any further, Nicole knew that she’d have to apologize to Waverly in person. She had gone home with every intention of cleaning herself up and updating Waverly on her plans for the evening – but as soon as she arrived home it felt as though a fog had settled over her. She fell asleep still half dressed, without ever brushing her teeth. Nicole felt uneasy about the state of her sleep, but something in the back of her mind told her to just move on. And so, she did, going through the motions of getting dressed, locking up the house, and walking to her car.

There was a slight breeze animating the still falling leaves, causing the tall grasses to dance – a sign of their fortitude in the dead of winter. As they danced, they carry a familiar scent into Nicole’s nostrils. Cardamom, clover, with a touch of ash. It was a scent Nicole had registered before, in her past life and in between, but she couldn’t put a name or a face to it. She stood outside her car for a moment, hoping that the owner of the burnt baker smell would come to her, but when her senses failed she gave up and got inside; making her way to the Earp homestead.

* * *

When Nicole parked her car in the Earp’s informal lot, she spotted Wynonna assembling a cord of wood by the shed. A fleeting moment of internal debate had Nicole conceding, with herself, that she should say hello. Waverly had undoubtedly spoken to Wynonna about last night’s ghosting incident, and it would be best to ensure she was still on everyone’s good side. Nicole closed her car door with a little more care than necessary. After the incident with her phone, she didn’t want to accidentally destroy her other, more valuable possessions.

“Haught!” Wynonna called out to Nicole, waving her arm through the air. “You’re in deep shit with my sister!” Wynonna laughed then, a little too loudly, both a warning and an unspoken apology to Nicole.

“Good morning to you, too. Thanks for the heads up!” Waving back at Wynonna, Nicole jogged up the Earp’s front door and made her way inside. 

* * *

Nicole attempted to control her heightened abilities for her own personal use when she entered the Earp household. She steadied her mind and held her breath, listening for signs of life, for something that would help her both locate and gauge the emotions of her beloved Waverly. After a few seconds of bated breath, Nicole homed in on Waverly, who was upstairs, still in her bed. Nicole couldn’t identify the sound of sulking or stewing, though she was sure Waverly was doing a combination of both. The hellhound glided up the stairs two at a time, determined to close the distance between them as quickly as possible. When she found herself standing before Waverly’s bedroom door, she took a deep breath, and knocked gently on the solid wood frame.

“Waves, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“…okay.” Waverly muttered.

“Okay,” Nicole replied, softly, as she opened the door. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” She stepped into Waverly’s room and closed the door behind her.

“If you didn’t want to be around me, you could have just said so.”

“What? No. That’s not what happened.”

“You said you’d let me know.”

“I know. The strangest thing happened when I got home. I just…fell asleep.”

“Yeah, that sounds real strange.” Waverly scoffed, rolling her eyes at Nicole’s feeble excuses.

Nicole’s stomach twisted in tiny, taut knots. She knew how it sounded. Running a hand through her uncombed hair, Nicole sat down on the edge of Waverly’s bed and placed her hand on the other woman’s hip. “I’m sorry. I can’t – I can’t explain it. I felt fine until I got home and then…something hit me. My entire body was screaming for me to go to sleep. I was paralyzed. But I wasn’t even tired.”

Waverly furrowed her brow, though her expression was softening with each passing second.

“Was it the um…transformation? Maybe it made you tired. It was the first time you went full Vulpix.” The Charizard comparison were reserved for Dolls. 

Nicole couldn’t help but smile at the Pokémon reference. It meant she was on her way out of the dog house, so to speak. “I could have been. I don’t…I don’t know. The night’s kind of a fog.” A beat. “…and I woke up with a nasty headache. I was hoping immortality would have cured those for me, but nope. Still susceptible to human inconveniences." 

Waverly laughed nervously at Nicole’s attempt at post-resurrection humor before allowing an awkward silence to fall over them. It had been happening a lot lately, a wall they’d have to breakthrough. Unable to stand it any longer, Waverly moved over in the bed, and patted the space her body had kept warm. “Lay with me?”

Nicole nodded, kicked her shoes off, and crawled under the copious amounts of covers with Waverly. It was hot beneath the mountain of blankets, but it was something Nicole was willing to endure. “Mmm. C’mere,” Nicole cooed, pulling Waverly to her chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t call…and I might not be able to call any time soon since I maybe broke my phone this morning.” The last announcement spilled out of Nicole’s mouth a fast, nervous string.

“That’s fine,” Waverly said smoothly, “because you’re not leaving my side today.”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

* * *

Nicole and Waverly woke up just a short time after to the alarming sound of Wynonna yelling a slew of profanities from the front yard. Waverly carefully extracted herself from Nicole’s arms and scurried to the window, pushing it open so she could yell at her _very rude_ sister. Nicole sat up as well, watching Waverly burn a hole into the ground outside with her death glare. It was adorable.

“Holy shit fries!”

“Wynonna, what are you yelling for?”

“God damn bitch crickets!”

“Wynonna!”

“I’m going to need you and Haught to come outside right now. Nedley just reported that Purgatory’s Thrifts and Gifts store was just robbed. The only thing missing was a fur coat and combat boots.”

“Bobo,” Waverly whispered.

Nicole eyes widened, and the phantom of a memory planted in her head.

Cardamom. Cloves. Ashes.

“Bobo’s back,” Nicole echoed. “…and I think he’s been watching me.”


	11. Chapter 11

“How in the fudge nuggets is Bobo back?!” Waverly made a feeble attempt at turning the situation into a solvable equation, though the supernatural seldom left room for such mundane arithmetic.

“We came back together,” Nicole reasoned.

“And when were you planning on letting us in on this little secret?” Wynonna snapped, her eyes throwing daggers at Nicole.

“It wasn’t a secret, Wynonna. It’s the only thing that makes sense. You died. I came back. He came back.”

“Oh, right. I guess.”

“Have another drink, Earp.” Nicole challenged the Heir, knowing full well that the woman would in fact be having another drink in the very near future.

“Can you two get along for five minutes?” Waverly huffed, growing tired of the pissing contest between the two most important women in her life.

“I was nice to her yesterday,” Nicole and Wynonna replied, in unison – a jinx that made them both turn away from each other in an exasperated huff.

Waverly granted her sister and her girlfriend a few seconds to recover from the manifestation of their similarities to pass over before steering the conversation back to business.

“Now that you’ve both gotten _that_ out of your system’s, can we talk about what he wants with us – and Nicole? He’s never paid much interest in her before.”

“Who would want to?” Wynonna mumbled, before shooting an apologetic glance in Waverly’s direction.

“He took an interest in me when we were…” Nicole trailed off, her gaze lowering to the floor. Her eye glazed over as she stared at the floor tiles, as though her vision was cutting through the material, straight down into the earth’s core.

“Oh my god,” Waverly mouthed, silently pleading with her sister to respond to Nicole’s admission with a modicum of tenderness.

Wynonna tried her best and cleared her throat. “Okay, Haught…” Wynonna trailed off, looking for the right words. “Did he talk about his agenda? Anything he’d want to do if he ever became landlocked again?”

Nicole snapped out of her haze and looked back up, nodding solemnly. “He said a lot of things he’d like to do. He…he just said a lot of things. He did a lot of things too.”

“Ah, Jesus Christ.” Wynonna couldn’t contain her disgust for Bobo, or the pity she had reserved for Nicole. The words slipped off her whiskey-soaked tongue before she could swallow them back down.

Waverly pulled herself up from the chair she’d settled herself into once they had all convened for this monster of a discussion and hurried over to Nicole’s side. Nicole half-smiled at Waverly and reached out for her hand before continuing.

“But uh – he mentioned something about someone being risen. He said, ‘With the Two, He is Risen’.”

“Why can’t demons ever talk in complete sentences? Why’s it always gotta sound so old-timey and biblical? Ugh. We need Doc. Meet back at the Homestead tonight at 10? Doc’s busy polishing his pistol or something right now, and I’m sure Dolls is at the farmer’s market again.”  

* * *

Nicole playfully tugged Waverly up the steps to her front porch and pulled her in close, then kissed her softly. Nicole let her lips linger on Waverly’s for a few seconds, eyes closed, seeking sanctuary in the safety of the smallest Earp’s arms. Nicole needed help staying grounded, not for fear of floating above the clouds, but for fear of sinking down below. Bobo’s presence on her felt like a threat now more than ever. The promises of pain he’d promised her while they were in hell felt too explicit to repeat in the realm of the living – and Waverly was the only thing that could keep her thoughts from dipping into the abyss.

“Do you want to come in and distract me before we meet back up tonight?”

“Mmm, I’d love to, but I promised Jeremy I’d help him restock the lab. We’re fresh out of nitrocellulose and you know just how important protein transfer is for demon genus identification!" 

“How could I forget?” Nicole feigned amusement at Waverly’s extracurriculars, successfully masking the crippling fear she felt about being left to her own devices.

“I’m really sorry,” Waverly pouted, playfully bringing her finger up to _boop_ Nicole’s nose. “But I’ll see you tonight?” Waverly slowly trailed her finger down from Nicole’s nose to her lips, skipping over her chin and dropping it back down at her chest, where she traced small circles. “…and I’d like you to sleep over.” 

Blood rushed to Nicole cheeks, among other places, and she bit her bottom lip. “I’ll bring my toothbrush.”

“Perfect,” and with that, Waverly pecked Nicole on the lips one last time, then skipped back to the truck. “See you later baby!”

Nicole let her worries slip away just long enough to allow herself to smile as she unlocked her front door. The second she pushed the door open, the familiar scent of Bobo Del Ray flooded her nostrils. Nicole turned around to call out to Waverly for help, but before she had the chance – his gruff voice pierced her thoughts.

“ _Don’t even think about it. Step inside and close the door. Do not say a word to Waverly Earp._ ”

She fought the compulsion but found herself swallowed by the shadows of her dark home.Nicole closed the door and locked it behind her.

 _“Good puppy,”_ Boo purred. “ _Wait until you hear that truck drive away, then turn on the lights so I can take a look at what you’ve become.”_

Nicole stood frozen still until the truck’s engine roared and the tires chewed up the gravel beneath them. When the scent and the sounds of Waverly Earp fell beyond ear shot, Nicole flipped the light switch. Out of the darkness Bobo 2.0 was born. 

* * *

Bobo clicked his incisors together, ever the dentist’s nightmare, and approached Nicole like a feral cat. He moved forward in uneven lateral steps, crouched down, nostrils flaring. Nicole returned the surveying glance. He looked different than he did down there. He had showered. He had found more pomade. He even shaved, revealing a four-inch scar that extended from his right cheekbone down to his chin. Nicole smirked – that one was her handy work from the night her restraints became a little too worn. He growled in acknowledgment.

“What do you want from me, Bobo?”

“I wanted to play with your _kitty_.”

Nicole eyes widened in horror. “You didn’t…did you?”

“Relax. I didn’t touch a hair on her. She’s not the Ginger Bitch I’m interested in. I must say, I’m a little shocked. I didn’t think cats and dogs played well together.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Oh, but you are.”

“I’m not a dog,” Nicole repeated.

“Really? Prove it. Sit.” 

Nicole knees buckled at the command, and she fought her own body as it lowered her to the floor. “How are you doing this?”

Bobo clapped, thoroughly amused with himself. “That’s for me to know.”

“Tell me.”

“No! You don’t get to make the commands around here.”

Nicole pressed her lips together in a hard line, fighting the urge to cower…to cower like a dog.

“What do you want from me?” The words came out in a heavy breath. Her body was tired from fighting. She was tired of fighting.

“I want revenge,” he brought his fingertips up to his scar. “…for this. And for being sent back to hell. But I can’t hurt you. I can’t hurt you without hurting my angel. So I’ll have to settle for using you.” Bobo perked up and skipped towards the door, snapping his fingers at Nicole as he did so. “Let’s go. We have an errand to run.”

* * *

Nicole Haught’s hands tightened around the steering wheel of her police cruiser as she slowed the vehicle to a stop. Bobo had decided the irony of having her commit god-knows-what kind of crime while driving her Sheriff’s Department issued automobile was just too much to pass up. Nicole drew in a deep breath and slowly released it, hoping that the intake of oxygen would replenish her cells and give her the strength needed to defy Bobo.

“What are we doing at Timmy Lancaster’s place?” Nicole probed.

“He’s in debt.” Bobo replied.

“What kind of debt?”

“He owes me $20,000.”

“And you needed me to drive you here, so you could shake him down?”

Bobo chuckled. “I needed you to drive me here so I could watch _you_ shake him down.”

Nicole shook her head. “No. I won’t do it. He’s a good man.”

“You don’t have a choice Officer Haught. You and me – we’re Purgatory’s first K-9 unit. C’mon Cujo.”

Without another word, Bobo and Nicole stepped out of the cruiser and made their way up to Timmy’s front door. At Bobo’s command, Nicole introduced herself and knocked on the solid wood door. There was no answer, but Nicole could hear (and smell) signs of life coming from inside. Nicole pounded on the door again. No signs of movement, only the hush of labored breathing.

“Break the door down,” Bobo ordered.

“Timmy, it’s Officer Haught. Open up.  I just want to talk." 

No answer.

“I said break the door down.”

Nicole rested her closed fist on the door and closed her eyes, fighting. Always fighting.

“Break. The. Door. Down.”

Nicole shook her head. Enraged, Bobo brought his hand to the back of Nicole’s neck, as though scruffing a dog. “I said break the fucking door down." 

Nicole’s body began to tremble, her arms extended, locking out at the elbows as claws pushed out from beneath the skin of her fingertips. Her eyes lit up, and she growled – first at Bobo, then at Timmy’s door. Within seconds, the door splintered into a hundred wooden projectiles.

“Please – I can get the money,” Timmy began to plead, any illusion of escape now long gone. Fragments of the door had embedded themselves in the flesh of his forearm, and Nicole made a feeble attempt at telling herself that his blood didn’t smell delicious.

Bobo stepped inside after Nicole and brought his hands together. “I don’t think you can get the money.”

“N-n-no! I can. I can! I just uh, I heard you’d died so I just thought…”

“I always come back to collect, Timmy.”

Bobo lunged towards the other man and grabbed the collar of his shirt. As he did so, Timmy pulled a small switchblade from his back pocket. He swung the blade at Bobo, cutting through the fabric of the Revenant’s thrift-store shirt.

“What kind of a hound are you, Haught, looking on as someone attacks your master?”

“You’re not my master, Bobo.” Nicole folded her arms across her chest in protest, watching as Timmy once again swung the knife at Bobo.

Bobo blocked Timmy’s move and threw the man across the room. Timmy rolled on the floor, quickly crawling to a shelf – searching for something. When he stood back up, Timmy’s unsteady hands held a .45. The wobbling barrel shook, the hollow cylinder staring Bobo in the face. This act of defiance filled the Revenant’s veins with rage and he gritted his teeth.

“Disarm him.”

The command was strong enough this time to erase the thoughts from Nicole’s mind. Before she had the chance to protest, she leapt across the sizable room in a single bound and swiped the gun from Timmy’s hands. Unable to control her own body, Nicole watched as her hand closed around Timmy’s throat. Inch by inch, she lifted the man up off the floor – while her free hand, claws and all, waiting for Bobo’s next command.

Nicole met Timmy’s stare.  His dark eyes were pleading, the desperation enough to spark her mind-muscle connection. Her grip around his throat loosened and she lowered him back to the ground.

“Mr. Lancaster, I’m so…I’m so sorry,” she whispered, the gravity of her actions hitting her harder than any blow she took back in hell.

“I didn’t say you could put him down,” Bobo interrupted.

Nicole’s arm jutted out again, fingers closing around Timmy’s throat. Nicole’s body began to tremble, this time not from transformation but from anguished exhaustion.

“Good girl. Now kill him.”

Nicole shook her head. “I can’t.” Her voice was weak, shaking from the sobs that were rattling through her body.

“Kill him.”

“No.” Nicole tried to loosen her grip on Timmy’s throat, but her muscles burned at the mere thought of disobedience. Her tendons flared, her veins cooled, the temperature drop killing her from the inside out.

“Kill him.”

Nicole fought through the icicles beneath her skin, a frigidity powerful enough to snuff out her hellfire flame.

“I won’t do it.”

“Kill him.”

Nicole was sobbing know, her entire body shaking in fear, pleading with Bobo for some type of mercy. “Please, Bobo. Please don’t make me do this. I can’t do this.”

“Snap his neck, **now**.”

Her grip tightened, his bones snapped, and they both fell to the ground.

“That’s my girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I'm sorry that took so long. I was feeling extremely uninspired and frankly, a little down-in-the-dumps about my inability to contribute more to this fandom. 
> 
> Last night's episode inspired me to write some dialogue, and the rest just came out. 
> 
> The good news is, I have the next chapter all planned out and already partially written. Look for for that soon. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me. You don't know how appreciative I am.


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